


His Heart is Flame

by jiokra



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Community: trekmas, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, Hand Jobs, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt Kirk, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Meld, Pining, Pon Farr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiokra/pseuds/jiokra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk and Spock are trapped in a broken down shuttle on a snowy planet, communication cut off from the Enterprise and hypothermia threatening to consume Kirk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Heart is Flame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelus2hot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelus2hot/gifts).



> Happy Trekmas! I loved all your prompts and worked them into an episode tag fic for Amok Time. Hope you enjoy it!

"Kirk to Enterprise. This is the Captain speaking. Respond," said Kirk, breath freezing as he spoke into his communicator. He leaned over the shuttle's control panel, perched on the edge of his chair. "I repeat, this is Kirk to Enterpri—”

The air, far below freezing, caught in his throat and burned him, throwing him into a coughing fit. Spock's hands stilled over the various torn wires he'd been attempting to splice back into working shape. He calculated that Kirk should regain use of his lungs in 5.6 seconds, yet this knowledge did not bring a salve to his nerves which continued to spike as Kirk's coughing fit persisted. Reaching for a water canister, Spock turned his head minutely to the Captain, an alarming degree of concern bleeding into his voice as he said, "Captain, if I may, there is a highly positive correlation between drinking water and stopping a cough."

Kirk whacked his shoulder, shaking his head. "It's all right, Mr. Spock. Thank you."

It wasn't all right. Since they'd crashed into Copernicus IV, a planet made up entirely of icecaps yet possessing a vibrant flora along its equator, Kirk's temperature had steadily decreased. Or, at least, Spock hypothesized that it did. Humans did not retain heat as well as Vulcans, and Kirk had not dressed for the shuttle to become a massive refrigerator. Spock didn't need his endlessly logical mind to seek out evidence of Kirk's declining body heat. It was blatant in the quiver in Kirk's limbs, the shaking in his voice.

"Captain," said Spock, slowly, "perhaps there are materials for shelter in this shuttle. Although not a proper substitute for a blanket or extra clothes, even canvas could provide you with warmth."

Kirk merely shook his head. "No, thank you, Mr. Spock. I appreciate your concern, but our attention is put to better use reestablishing contact with the Enterprise. Continue splicing the wires."

That might as well have been an order for Spock to mind his own business. But Spock would not. An avalanche of symptoms for Kirk's worsening health built up by the second. Kirk's denial must have a root cause. As First Officer, his role entailed looking after his Captain, and so it was Spock's duty to unearth the cause. Kirk might be evading the issue in order to prevent Spock from panicking over the possibility that they wouldn't regain contact with the Enterprise. Yet that explanation, of course, was illogical. With their prowess and Scotty's ingenuity, they will be beamed off Copernicus IV before lunchtime. Indeed, no reasonable explanation presented itself as the cause of Kirk's refusal. Therefore, it must be _un_ reasonable.

Spock sifted through the events of the day. He sought passed the chaotic winds that sent their shuttle veering off course, tossed aside the yeomen to whom Kirk directed his winning grin. And he tossed it aside gladly, too. After warping away from Vulcan, Kirk had not so much as spoken less than professionally to Spock; however, this was entirely reasonable. Spock had not very long ago succumbed to the ancient powers of Plak Tow, nearly committing the unforgivable. Oh, the shame that still festered deep within him, the memories of seeing Kirk's vacant body laying so still on the red sands of Vulcan. Did the memories haunt Kirk as well, the images seen from the opposite angle, that of Spock's violent rage braced over Kirk, dealing the seemingly deadly blow?

Spock closed his eyes, murmuring a mantra to center himself as the lingering throes of Pon Farr threatened to hit him with lascivious waves. Spock had only realized his hidden longing for Kirk after he'd nearly killed his Captain, the emptiness left from the broken bond with T'Pring reaching out for the one Spock truly desired with all his being. Suffering mingled with his shame, passions curling in him. The passions stripped him of all logic, calling out for Kirk. Spock repeated the mantra with stronger conviction, a penance to Kirk, an unheard plea for mercy.

In time, Spock willed past the waves of Pon Farr, his vision refocusing on images of the damaged wires.

"Kirk to Enterpr-prise, this is your C-captain speak-ki-ing. Do you hear me?"

The hairs along Spock's scalp prickled. He shot a look over at Kirk, who gripped the communicator tightly, knuckles turning white. Spock wondered if it was to keep his shivering hands from making him drop the communicator altogether. The unbridled passions hissed in his mind, _Protect him, protect him._

Watching Kirk work despite his worsening health, Spock frowned and wrecked his brain for the enticing incident. Spock's ignorance infuriated him. Pon Farr relished in his rage, but Spock paid it no heed because he was legitimately upset. Kirk endangered his safety, and Spock didn't need to rattle off a calculation down to the second until Kirk developed hypothermia. Settling aside the possessive urges of Pon Farr, Spock honed in and focused, and soon an obvious dilemma presented itself: Kirk was emotionally compromised, given that no reasonable cause existed to explain his behavior. This affected the safety of the Enterprise by risking the livelihood of the commanding officer. Spock would not rest for this.

Spock pressed his lips together, satisfied that a rational motivation now drove him to circumvent Kirk's wishes.

"Jim," he said, a slight bite to his words, "it is illogical to claim you are 'all right.' Let me help you regain warmth."

"Be that as it may, Mr. Spock, we must regain contact with the Enterprise."

"By refusing my help, you are placing your health at risk. There is a 73% chance that if you do not regain heat in the next minute, you will not be conscious by the time we can communicate with the Enterprise." The statistic was fallacious, purely made up on the spur of the moment, but Spock delivered it with such conviction that Kirk floundered.

Grimacing, Kirk dragged a hand down his cheek, eyes widening, as if he only realized how cold he was. "As logical as always, Mr. Sp-spock," he said. "How do you suggest I do that? We have nothing here but the clothes on our backs."

Spock tampered down the lust rising within him. _He_ could warm up Kirk, Pon Farr reminded him, and the thought sent heat to an area that Spock would rather Kirk not become cognizant of. Spock raised an eyebrow, allowing only that as evidence of his ambivalence, and Kirk snorted.

"As I thou-ought," mumbled Kirk, yet he turned his gaze away from the communicator and onto Spock, his hazel eyes unfocused. "Very well," he continued, puffs of frozen air in the word's wake. Kirk slumped in his chair. "Continue with... the wires, Mr... Mr. Spo—” He collapsed, eyes lolling and communicator slipping from his hands and crashing to the floor. Before Kirk's limp figure fell from his chair, Spock lunged forward and grasped his wrists, dragged Kirk onto him and cushioning his fall as they collided with the ground.

Emotions flooded Spock the second they touched, Spock's fingers so close to the empathic zones in Kirk's hands. _Fatigue, fright, longing_ , they swarmed him, the last emotion giving Spock pause, but the other two took precedence. Clutching Kirk close, Spock turned to his side, enveloping Kirk in his arms and legs. "Do not pardon my insubordination, Captain," he said. "I do not regret it."

Kirk pressed into him, greedy for the heat, yet the stark contrast between Spock's temperature and what Copernicus IV had subjected him to sent chills through him, and he shook with tremulous shivers. "The th-thought never occ-curred to me."

The little skin available to touch burned Spock's skin, they were so cold. Though his earlier calculation of a 73% likelihood of Kirk staying awake had been a deception, Spock feared it had not been as off-base as he'd intended. The chills rocketed through Kirk like a seizure. Kirk tucked his head under Spock's chin, pressing further into him, the icicles in his hair formed by frozen sweat searing Spock. Possibly Spock could initiate a meld and turn off the receptors for cold in Kirk's brain, allowing Kirk minor reprieve as they waited for Scotty to find their signatures and beam them up. But this proposal — surely it was a work of Pon Farr, the meld would be an intrusion, and Spock's lust would delve too deep, explore forbidden corners, even if Kirk were skillful enough to block Spock from accessing them.

Yet they lacked other options, now that the cold rendered Kirk near catatonic. "Jim," broached Spock, "I may provide further help, but it is... invasive."

Kirk grunted, unable to provide anything else in response.

"A meld," Spock elaborated. "I can trick your brain into thinking you are not cold."

This time Kirk uttered nary a sound, and the shame assaulted Spock stronger than ever before. An apology near rushed out his lips, but then Kirk shifted, tilting his head toward Spock's palm that laid on the floor close to Kirk. The shame transformed into a brightness that rivaled the bursting sunlight on Vulcan. Kirk wanted this. He did not hate Spock. He trusted him in his mind. Joy vibrated through Spock's entire being, whether due to his own volition or Pon Farr's, but Spock did not dwell in it. Instead, he took the hand once tucked over Kirk's waist and rushed to secure it over the meld points.

Spock closed his eyes, a mantra loose on his tongue, and with little haste, he dove into Kirk's mind.

Kirk's mind — it shone brighter than a supernova, expanded at every angle faster than the universe. Dynamic, explosive, Kirk was so enigmatic that he took Spock's breath away, distracting him so much and igniting his curiosity to such a degree that Spock forgot the purpose of the meld. Immediately, Spock retreated, the guilt encompassed him, but then a heat poured over him. Ironically, in the ethereal plain of their minds, Kirk warmed Spock, gathering him in an embrace as tight as the one Spock held Kirk in on the shuttle floor.

Then Kirk pulled the rug out from under Spock's feet. Presumably, Kirk must've thought that more of his mind had been exposed that he'd thought, and so he acted in a way to rein the control back into his grasp. Otherwise, Spock could not explain why the dam inside his mind then burst, an exploding wave of emotions and memories to Spock that he'd not been privy to beforehand.

The flames of Kirk's embrace that had licked at Spock now gave way to emotion: the longing he'd glimpsed at in the touch of Kirk's hand, it now was revealed as a love that bloomed in the dark, hidden from Spock out of a fear of rejection. A rejection born from — Spock pulled away, overcome with amusement. It was a rejection born from Kirk thinking Spock now needed a new Vulcan bond mate. At Spock's untimely retreat, Kirk pushed back, a thought vocalized in Kirk's cadence, " _What's so funny?_ "

" _You are,_ " replied Spock. Then he opened up his own dam, and the passions of Pon Farr wrecked havoc in Kirk's mind like a hurricane of unrecorded size.

" _Oh._ "

Kirk's surprise was endearing. While Spock would have loved to prod a bit more, tease out what other confusion lurked within Kirk, envelope Kirk in an embrace that obscured nothing, Spock acknowledged that the meld had been initiated over a grave matter. Turning away from their private corner in the meld, Spock traipsed through Kirk's mind until he discovered the link between his brain's receptors for the areas that detected warmth. He stayed there, keeping the receptors turned off, allowing Kirk a moment of quiet as they shared each other's heat in the corporeal sense of it.

Yet, even as they continued the meld in a professional manner, the chemistry was electric, so encompassing that neither heard as their atoms began to energize.

Once they were beamed back onto the Enterprise, they promptly broke the meld.

"Jim!" shouted McCoy, as soon as they'd materialized on the transporter beam. Chapel and he hooked hands under Kirk's arms, dragging him over to a stretcher. Spock watched in a daze as they wheeled Kirk out of the transporter room.

It felt utterly surreal to be back on the Enterprise. Only moments before Kirk had been incapacitated, and the meld felt like a distant memory. Perhaps it had been? It was unfathomable that Kirk could forgive Spock for what he'd done in Plak Tow. It must've been a hallucination brought on by the cold.

Spock stood silently as a yeomen checked his vital signs, a hollowness in his chest, Pon Farr anxious and sullen. It'd have to be enough. That was what he deserved.

* * *

Spock hadn't realized how chilled he'd been himself until he entered his private quarters, the temperature raised exponentially higher in comparison to even the Enterprise. Though mimicking the heat of Vulcan, it'd of course never be warm enough. Heat was lost and gained on the Enterprise, yet every nook and cranny on Vulcan radiated warmth. At every minute of every hour, Spock had shivered in his heart. But now he burned. He burned at the memory of Kirk frozen in his arms, his mind aflame beneath his fingertips. He burned with an unbridled lust that made him want to rip apart the doors of the medical wing, glare down McCoy and demand to see his Kirk.

Spock clenched his hands into fist, which rested primly on either knee as he sat in a meditative stance. _His_ Kirk. Spock’s darkness had a wicked sense of humor. Kirk was not his, had never been, would never be. Not after what Spock had done.

Barely a second passed before the buzzer for his room rang.

Spock exhaled slowly, then reached over atop his desk to tap at a number pad, opening the comm to the front door. "Spock here."

"Spock, hey," said Kirk. _Jim!_ "Sorry to come over unannounced, but I've been meaning on speaking with you. If you'd like to, of course."

Inhaling sharply, Spock closed his eyes for a brief moment, and on a slow, steady exhale, he opened them. He stood, then pressed the code to open the doors to his quarters. Kirk rushed in before the doors had fully opened, and his mere presence managed to raise the temperature in the room, whether due to his newly gained heat after McCoy's tending, or the ache that built deep inside Spock that throbbed the second he stepped inside. The door's sensors activated once Kirk entered the center of the room, whooshing shut, and the heavy quiet bloated the room. Kirk stepped quietly to Spock, gazing indiscriminately around the quarters, just as he had the last time he'd entered Spock's private living space, on that day when nothing had yet to change.

Tracing a finger along Spock's reading desk, Kirk took in a breath, then held it, looking up at the ceiling. Spock stared down at his hand still braced over the number pad, stoic as always. Kirk hummed, the soft melody intoxicating to Spock's ears, yet he kept his gaze firmly down.

"I missed you in sickbay," said Kirk. It was so to the point that Spock nodded, feeling the need to acknowledge it, yet not quite sure if Kirk had spoken his mind at all. Kirk drummed his fingers erratically on the desk, then stopped. "Spock, I... I didn't dream up that meld, did I? I was so ill, but that couldn't have been a dream?"

Spock didn't reply, but his body betrayed him. Heart thumping, the bob of his throat bouncing, eyebrow raised, and breath catching — it was obvious that it hadn't been a dream. Kirk near tripped over his feet as he raced around the table, setting either hand on Spock's arms and squeezing. The tight grip went straight to Spock's cock, and he shut his eyes so to appease the arousal that threatened to consume him. Spock suppressed a shudder, raising a hand and settling over his melding points, willing down the desire that curled within. When Kirk spoke next, his voice was pitched low, husky, words caught in his throat.

"You... you're still experiencing your time, aren't you? You never told me, and with your bond broken, Spock..." Kirk loosened his hold on Spock, hands slipping to rest over his elbows. "In the meld, you showed me things, magnificent things that I'd hoped for so long to be true. I also saw your regrets, and, Spock, you know I don't hold it against you? You never needed my forgiveness because I'd never felt wronged in the first place."

"Jim, I have committed the most heinous act imaginable. I harmed you. Had McCoy not tranquilized you, I would have killed you. I made you think that I would."

Kirk drew a hand away from his elbow, tracing along his forearm, past the skin of his wrist exposed at the edge of his sleeve, and caressed Spock's hand from palm to fingertips, pressing his fingertips to Spock's. Spock trembled, his knees near buckling at the yearning that swelled in him. "Jim..."

"Come on, Spock, listen to reason. Don't lose sight of what is in front of you."

He wanted to give in, to allow himself the purest form of happiness, but he could not. He swallowed down a knot building in his throat, a plea lose on his lips, but before he spoke, Kirk laced their fingers together and crowded Spock against the table, sealing his lips into a kiss.

Spock's hesitance, his carefully constructed logic, it disappeared that very instant, and Pon Farr took over. Spock lost himself in the longing and loneliness he’d felt since the day he'd left T'Pring to join Starfleet, in the innocent joy that'd bloomed to impossible heights when Spock realized his warm regard toward Kirk had never truly been platonic. He laced a hand around Kirk's waist, the other cupping his jaw, and he teased Kirk's mouth open with his tongue, greedily devouring as much of Kirk as he could. Kirk surged forward, pressing his body flush against Spock. But then he pulled away, chuckling.

"I see that you are experiencing the full extent of your time," he said, scratching his nails down the Spock's chest and toying with the buttons of his black pants.

Spock groaned, not realizing until then, having been so distracted by the man before him, that his cock was as hard as granite. Kirk popped up the button of his pants, pulling down the zipper, with an ease that had Spock drawing in a shaky breath. Kirk found his cock and coaxed it out of his boxers, then pressed kisses on his throat, working his way up his neck and nipping along his earlobe to the pointed tips of his ears. Spock bit the inside of his cheek, stifling a moan, and tipped his head to the side, presenting himself further to Kirk.

Kirk circled his fingers along the tip of Spock's cock, lubing his hand with the come that eased out at his building arousal. Then Kirk massaged him, drawing his hand lazily along his cock, making the foreskin taunt until the stretch burned, then he just as slowly pulled the foreskin over the head until the tip disappeared. Tightening his grip, Kirk drew his hand back down, and the sensation overwhelmed Spock intensively, driving him to shut his eyes and utter a small groan. Kirk chuckled, then nibbled on Spock's earlobe, sending every nerve in Spock's body aflame. Knees buckling, Spock tore his hands away from Kirk and slapped them onto the table, leaning his full weight into the desk, directing all his attention to his neck and cock, Kirk's mouth and hand.

Kirk pressed his thumb along the tip, tracing circles and he engulfed the rest of Spock in his palm, and within seconds Spock was coming, splattering all over the front of Kirk’s gold command shirt — far too overwhelmed with his need for Kirk, the many years he'd spent without another touching him, Pon Farr celebrating at having achieved its goal of acquiring Kirk. Kirk grinned into Spock's neck, pressed a kiss at the juncture of his jaw and throat.

"Hmm," murmured Kirk. "I suppose I'll have to go slower next time, find out what it'll take to make you ask for it."

Spock felt butterflies in his stomach, suddenly feeling a bit shy at hearing what Kirk ached to do to him. "What you suggest, Jim, is—”

The words were lost in a hiss, Spock collapsing onto the desk as Kirk squeezed the tip of his cock. "If you dare say illogical, I might have to uphold my authority as your superior officer now."

"No, not illogical. It is reasonable."

Kirk murmured in appraisal. "Reasonable? My, I believe that is the highest compliment you've ever given me."

Spock groaned, the noise trapped in his throat, sounding far more ragged that he'd anticipated. If Kirk insisted to chatter while he teased Spock, it wouldn't be Pon Farr that drove Spock to insanity. He drew in a breath, and on the exhale, he uttered, sounding all to close to a whine, except Vulcans did not whine, "Jim..."

"Hmm?" said Kirk, then his hand stilled. Spock gulped. "My apologies."

Then Kirk kissed Spock thoroughly, not at all sorry. Neither was Spock, if he were being honest.


End file.
